Twenty One Years

Twenty one years of age means adulthood. It means something between young and full of life and mature responsible person. And I am not sure how I feel about tonight.

To be sure, unlike my previous birthdays, on this one I actually feel different, but not in a radical change type of way. Rather, I notice a few small changes about me that had built up over the course of the year to make me a little different. With this observation, I feel oddly reflective, optimistic, and well, different.

I guess in a way, I feel like me, the one that existed back in high school. It took me awhile to find me, and it took me awhile to embrace it, but now I feel wholly like me. This was a feeling that I had achieved in high school, but I had lost it somewhere along the way. Now, I have my optimism again and my exuberance. I have my sappiness back along with my idealism. I feel alive and well.

Yet, at the same time, I'm not the kid I was back in high school. I suppose I could only say that I have matured over the years. My taste in things have become more sophisticated. My optimism leveled somewhat by experience; my idealism weighted with reality. Though, not all things have been merely balanced. Some things have deepened. I do not care as much about other people's judgments about me. Of course, I will appologize if you think I am overly girly or what have you. Yet, I will still love reading books like Pride and Prejudice and watch movies like The Sound of Music. That is me.

And, thinking on this, I find that I like it this way. To me, this is life. I don't mind writing silly stories with the Sex and the City as my background noise and distractor. This is my twenty one years of age picture: cheerful, contemplative, creative, and capricious. Less talking, more listening. Less rambunctious, more appreciative.

Less trudging, more living.

And that is all I can ever hope to be.